


Penance

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Friendship, Gen, H/C: Side Effects, Mentors, Pre-Craig O'Laughlin, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: Set after 3x03. “However, sorry does not make what you did okay. You did something wrong and reckless and well, Grace, I need to make sure this particular lesson sticks.”





	Penance

**Author's Note:**

> In another of a (very) long list of head!canons that I'm attempting to dole out, I always imagined Lisbon taking the punishments of her subordinates into her own hands. *shrugs* Written for yet another H/C Bingo prompt - Side Effects. 
> 
> As usual, I own nothing.

Twiddling her thumbs at her cluttered-free desk, Grace Van Pelt looked every bit miserable as she felt. She couldn’t sit still and her stomach continued to painfully twist, reminding her that she wasn’t only staying three hours past both Rigsby and Cho to run the questionable finances of Brother Cooper.

 

No. She was, unfortunately, staying after hours because she had done wrong. Nearly getting Wayne _and_ herself killed to shake an FBI tail hadn’t gone over well; and though Lisbon _had_ been concerned, the brunette senior agent hadn’t been concerned enough to not be pissed either at the apparent lack of forethought on Grace’s part.

 

Sighing softly, Grace was terrified she’d be losing her job over this entire debacle. Wayne had reassured her, before he had left for the evening, that the boss wouldn’t fire her over something so simple. Jane, after all, had done _far_ worse things—but as she had pointed out to him, Lisbon _expected_ far better from them than she did from a consultant with consistent authority issues.

 

“You’ll be fine, Grace,” Jane managed from his couch, forcing her to glance at him sheepishly. “Lisbon’s not really the firing type; she just likes to watch others squirm, as she’s a sadist.” Jane’s grin told her he was joking. Or mostly joking, anyway. It was sometimes hard to tell with Jane.

 

She glanced downwards at her laced fingers. “I said I was sorry.”

 

Jane chuckled. “She knows you are.”

 

Grace furrowed her brows. “I…but then _why_?”

 

“Van Pelt,” Lisbon interrupted her abruptly from the doorway into the bullpen. Grace glanced up at her boss, who eyed Jane almost immediately. “Jane, do you mind?” Grace almost wished she had Jane’s uncanny ability of mind reading, because Lisbon’s lack of expression was only making her stomach squirm more.

 

“Not at all,” Jane told Lisbon. Grace could hear him moving from the couch. “Don’t go _too_ hard on her, Lisbon. She’s already torturing herself enough.” Lisbon said nothing, until after he had long disappeared from the bullpen. It was only when they were surrounded by the sounds of silence, machines humming and Grace’s hushed breaths that Lisbon opened her mouth again.

 

“What you did today was reckless,” Lisbon said, after another moment of gut-wrenching silence. Ashamed, Grace bowed her head. “It’s one thing to put your _own_ life in danger, Van Pelt, but Rigsby’s? I know you are far smarter than that.”

 

“I…” Grace started to apologize again, only to be interrupted.

 

“Yes, you’re sorry. I get that.” Grace bit her bottom lip, suddenly reminded of a naughty child as Lisbon stood over her.  “However, _sorry_ does not make what you did okay. You did something wrong and reckless and well, Grace, I need to make sure this particular lesson sticks.” Before Grace could attempt to apologize again, Lisbon spoke. “Stand up.” Grace did so without hesitation and in turn, Lisbon claimed her desk chair. Grace blinked. She had expected the two to disappear into Lisbon’s office, only to sign a disciplinary notice that would disappear into her file, not for Lisbon to take her chair. “Good. Now, you will remove your slacks.”

 

Grace stared at her boss, confusion written across her expression. Lisbon wanted _what_? “Remove my…?”

 

Lisbon grimaced. “I don’t recall having stuttered, Van Pelt. _Remove_ your slacks.” Grace blinked once more. “Now. Or I’ll make this far worse.” Shakily, she started to unbutton and unzip her slacks until they pooled around her bare ankles and she stood, before her boss, in only a blouse and a pink-patterned thong. “At least you can still follow simple directions, which is a relief.”

 

Grace felt herself turning pink, humiliated.

 

Lisbon didn’t seem too concerned with how she felt, however. “I could and probably _should_ have written you up over your Jane-level antic today, Grace; but I didn’t and I still won’t. We’re going to handle this little digression in-house.” Grace watched her boss pat her lap. “Come here, please.”

 

“W-what?”

 

“ _Supervisory Agents of the bureau can discipline their agents in any method that they see befitting the ill-seeded transgression, permitted that the Supervisory Agent does not perform any unlawful or acts of inappropriate aggression upon his/her agent(s)._ Page 33, paragraph 5 of the _CBI Employee Handbook_ ,” Lisbon parroted, almost as if she recited it more than just with Grace. “Once again, I want you to come here and lie across my lap. I am quickly losing my patience and I refuse to repeat myself again, Van Pelt.”

Out of fear for what Lisbon _would_ do to her if she said no (and a begrudging respect for the rules and the regulations), Grace obliged. Lisbon said nothing to her and as she stared down at the hardwood floor with her stomach pressed against Lisbon’s legs, she finally understood what Lisbon had planned.

 

Lisbon was going to spank her as if she were a naughty child.

 

“This isn’t going to leave any damage, so it’s perfectly within my purview,” Lisbon explained, softly after Grace had begun to squirm and argue. “I’ve had this done to me before and trust me, I’ve been gracious to allow you to keep your clothing on.”

 

Grace didn’t even have a moment to collect herself, as a flair of searing pain to her backside flooded her senses. Crying out in alarm, Lisbon hit her again with what Grace assumed was her own hand.

 

“I _expect_ this sort of idiotic behavior from Jane,” Lisbon continued after her third hit to Grace’s backside. “And yes, he has done a few things that have forced him over my knee as well. But you, Van Pelt? I’ve never been more disappointed, as I know you know better than nearly getting yourselves killed.”

 

She swallowed, attempting to calm her nerves (and her tears) as Lisbon’s hand continued to brush against her tender backside. It was one thing to be turned over her boss’s knee and be spanked for her lack of intelligent thinking, but what tore her completely apart was the accompanying lecture too. The pain from Lisbon’s hand, Grace knew, would eventually go away.

 

The pain from Lisbon’s words, however, not so much.

 

After the seventh smack to her backside, she started to sob.

 

“I’m done, Grace,” Lisbon said quietly, a moment later. “It’s over, I promise. I’m not going to spank you anymore, alright? You’re done.” Hiccupping softly and cringing at the stinging in her behind, Grace slowly stood from her boss’s lap. “You’re going to be just fine.” Lisbon offered her a smile, still seated in her chair and although everything _hurt_ , Grace tried to offer a smile of her own. “Now, how about you go home for the night? We’ve got to be back here at eight and you know, I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

 

“O-of course, boss.”

 

::::

 

Out in the CBI parking lot, fifteen minutes till 8, Wayne caught up to her with four coffees in tow.

 

“You alright?”

 

Grace nodded, removing her coffee from the holder. “Yeah, Wayne. I’m fine.” Rigsby’s hand to her shoulder forced her to stop at the bottom of the stairs, to which she immediately turned pink.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Wayne muttered to her, before he nudged her shoulder and offered a kind smile. “We’ve all had our little _talks_ with Lisbon over the years, so just think of it as another rite of passage.”

 

Grace glanced at him, almost surprised.  “You have?”

 

Rigsby chuckled, nodding. “Let’s just say there’s a reason that Lisbon said _yes_ to a couch for Jane; and why she petitioned for better office chairs in the bullpen.” She watched him glance downwards at his watch, before he started to sprint up the steps. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” 

 


End file.
